


Aftermath

by Draco_Amante



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Genderbending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3803773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_Amante/pseuds/Draco_Amante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy isn't who anyone thinks he is.<br/>Except for the stranger who saw straight through him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revised Edition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unkissed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkissed/gifts).



> Re-posting from LJ:
> 
> First 'Chapter' is the longer, revised version, the second is the original ficlet.

The aftermath is almost strangely anti-climactic. There are people everywhere, but no-one is paying much attention to them yet. Draco clutches his mother’s hand, pressed tight between his parents, and feels numb. Empty. They are all he should care about, now. His family. But it’s not enough – so much energy has been spent trying to keep each other alive, and now they must face the fact that yes, they are alive, but they have no future, or at least none that he can see.

They aren’t the only ones clinging to what they know, lost and abandoned. If anything, they are the lucky ones, still alive and mostly well. Draco watches the Weasleys, not far from him, hovering over the one that’s dead, one of the twins, and he wishes he could remember their names. It all feels somehow his fault. Maybe, if he’s stood up to Him, stood at Potter’s side… but it would have been a lie. Draco hates Potter, so it doesn’t matter that his side won – neither side particularly appealed to him. He just wanted to be left alone, live his life in peace, and instead there was this war… and his does blame his father, partly, for making them all play these parts.

There are other Slytherins here, feeling as Draco does. This war was never something they wanted, they never believed enough in either side to make a stand, just children. They grew up believing what their parents told them, but they were mostly old enough now to see that maybe it wasn’t all true, and none of them wanting to be forced to kill, or even harm…

Not so different from the rest, really.

Draco knows the world won’t see it that way though. He doesn’t resist when an Auror finally shows up and arrests them.

-o-

The trials go by in a blur. They are rushed affairs, and Draco knows that it is only Potter’s interference that ensures his family’s are any different. There is more evidence heard, more emphasis on proof of crimes, and even on ‘mitigating circumstances’ and ‘acts of redemption’. His father receives six years of house arrest, a further ten on probation; his mother, only three years probation, never Marked or directly involved with the Death Eaters, and having helped Potter survive.

And then Draco himself. He can remember Potter speaking, but not what he said. There were plenty of photographers, reporters, people coming to watch just because it was Draco and Potter. Again, he notices the Weasleys, most of them here, conspicuous with their red hair and the space people now give them, out of respect. They are war heroes – Draco, lucky not to be considered a criminal.

He gets two years of probation, and can barely find the strength to feel grateful.

-o-

There is no Hogwarts to return to, the school itself in ruins, so many dead. Students are instead assigned correspondence course work by the Ministry, studying in their homes. It’s isolating, but many of Draco’s year-mates have decided to meet up to study, mostly at Theodore Nott’s house, since his father is dead and there’s so much space there they can all lose themselves if need be.

Greg spends his time working out, not one for regular coursework, but Daphne reads to him and quizzes him while he hefts weights, and they both seem to be the better for it, leaning on each other.

Blaise flirts with both Pansy and Theo, drinking heavily and partying hard, dealing with not only the end of the war but his own flexible sexuality and hatred of his mother and her latest partner and her uncaring attitude. It’s a mystery to Draco how Blaise is passing his classes – perhaps Theo is helping him?

Theo has turned into quite the bookworm, spending his days in his vast library and his nights more often than not in Blaise’s bed.

Pansy isn’t finishing school, the only one to give up. She instead helps them study, makes them tea and cakes – plans to attend a French culinary school, of all things, but they’ll take her if she proves her talents and pays her way, which they’re all certain she’ll manage.

Daphne’s sister Astoria sits with them sometimes, reading through her books. Younger than the rest of them, she has more years of study ahead, and Draco thinks she’ll give up before the end. She doesn’t seem to have much interest.

Nor does he, really, but he knows the only chance he has of a future rests on his NEWTs. If he does well, he may be able to get a job, rebuild the family reputation from the ground up. If not, they’re doomed to obscurity, a fate far worse than that which their current ‘traitor’ status affords.

It is several months before Theo reveals his idea, tentative and so sure of scorn that he can hardly be heard. He wants to build a school. The Ministry is rebuilding Hogwarts as it was; but Theo is right, that won’t ever work. The old prejudices, traditional feuds, are what lead us here – are what trapped many of us in Slytherin on a side we didn’t believe in. New Houses, a fresh start, are what many of us need. He even has ideas on a new curriculum; not Muggle Studies, but ‘Cultural Studies’, where students can learn about Wizarding culture, religion, belief and values, just as they can learn about Muggles. True equality, really.

All agree to help, even Pansy in as much as she can from France, and Theo looks almost ready to faint in surprise. Perhaps he thought he was the only one who wanted equality here, who saw why He had a chance at all among our parents and others, who surely knew His madness too. But it was obvious to any analytical mind, that the only way to prevent history repeating is a clean start.

Completing NEWTs, Pansy goes to France. Daphne and Greg move in together, into a small house on the outskirts of London. He takes a job working in construction, still a highly lucrative career at the moment, and Daphne takes a job in the Ministry as an assistant to someone fairly unimportant. Blaise has more money than most of us, and can afford to laze about, but instead goes into property – purchasing old Pureblood estates and renovating them, applying to make some of them Heritage Sites, and selling others back to their families for less than they’re worth. The media call him both Preservationist Pureblood and Heritage Campaigner. Theo drums up support for his school, slowly converting his ancestral home with donations from both pureblood families and not, his mild manner and thoughtfulness something that many trust. Astoria drops out, following her sister still, into the Ministry and working at the large reception desk in the Atrium.

Draco has no idea what to do, most turning him away; eventually, he finds work at Gringotts as an apprentice to an Accounts Manager, thanks not only to his head for figures (and wealth) but also his ability to speak Gobbledegook; a language he resented learning over summers when he was younger, but is now unbearably grateful for.

It goes rather well, all things considered. He doesn’t draw attention, dressing all in black, every day, and hanging back behind Laughton, who does all the talking. Draco fetches his coffee each day on the way in, hands it over, sips tea at his own desk and spends a lot of time translating. Laughton is good, especially with the wizard clients, but the goblins delight in speaking Gobbledegook around him even though he can’t speak it. It’s boring work, but he’s making friends with a few of the goblins (mostly by not translating when they say things they don’t want Laughton to hear), so there are perhaps opportunities – a future here. He thought there wouldn’t be one, but now he’s starting to see it. Not what he would have chosen, maybe, but beggars can’t be choosers. With his father locked up in the Manor, Draco is the face of the Malfoy Family, and they could do worse than be associated with Gringotts Bank.

The school is coming along nicely, but there is one draw-back; there aren’t a lot of teachers in Britain these days, and most of them are going to Hogwarts. They start trying to entice teachers from Europe, and Draco comes up with a financial plan that will see them getting paid rather better than the Ministry is offering at Hogwarts. The resulting staff is high-calibre, but there are a few accents and attitudes that may prove difficult in the long-run.

Theo himself refuses to be Headmaster, instead heading up a Board of Directors to run the less education-focused aspects of the new school. In the end, they coax Beauxbatons’ Charms teacher to take on the job (highly experienced, mellow but articulate, perfect but expensive). A French headmistress does cause a stir in the papers, but Blaise has a few words with the Prophet and suddenly everyone is talking about the awards she’s won in France for her work in education systems and the quality of students she’s produced (among them Fleur Weasley, which is mentioned frequently). Draco sees her not long after it’s first mentioned in the paper, and she looks as if she finds it amusing, which he hopes is a good sign. If the Weasleys back the new school in any way, it can only help.

Draco admits, only to himself, that he’s become rather fascinated by the Weasleys. They’re everywhere these days, or perhaps he’s just looking for them, but they are certainly numerous even after the death of that one, Fred he knows now, because they date and marry and reproduce and somehow have adopted his Aunt and her grandson. Draco tried to write a letter to her, to little Teddy, but started crying half-way through and decided to give it up as a lost cause. Nobody knows about it, after all. It doesn’t matter, except it does a bit, to him.

They all look happy, confident, even if he’s sure they shouldn’t be. The remaining twin, George, has clearly thrown himself into work – but he’s also dating frequently, and looks to be enjoying the rapid expansion of his business into France, Spain and Germany.

Bill, the oldest, works at Gringotts too, and Draco sees both him and his wife at least once a week, knows they have a child on the way and are blissfully happy.

He knows that Percy is still involved at the Ministry, Daphne thinks in Law Enforcement somehow, but she’s not sure. He too, has a girlfriend at the moment – a pretty brunette who favours too-large cashmere sweaters in the winter. Not sure of her name, but Daphne thinks it might be Audrey.

Ron is in his second year of Auror training, engaged to Granger who’s training to be a Crown Prosecutor. They’re media darlings, the Wizarding World’s favourite couple, and the whole country is holding its breath in anticipation of a wedding.

Ginny dumped Potter pretty much as soon as they got back together. No-one else knows, it’s been kept out of the media, but Theo swears he saw the Chosen One in a Muggle gay bar, chatting up another bloke. It would explain a few things, and Theo normally has pretty good gaydar regardless, so his assurances are enough for Draco. Ginny is therefore, instead of the expected ‘wife of Potter’ finishing her studies part-time while playing professional Quidditch.

The other one is a bit more of a mystery. No-one has a clear idea of what, exactly, he does. Or who he is dating. Or where he lives, or much of anything. Draco’s sure he was at the trials, knows he’s seen him a few times, but hates that even then, it might have been Bill from a distance, or even George or Percy. There are plenty of stories, rumours, but nothing solid, and it draws Draco in and drives him mad.

So when he does meet Charlie Weasley, it isn’t all that surprising that Draco doesn’t recognise him.

-o-

That night, Draco eyes himself critically in the mirror. The potions he’s been taking, some strange hormone-thing of his mother’s, are certainly doing their job; keeping him slender, his skin clear and his hair thick and luxurious. The corset pulls him in just as he’d hoped it would, giving the illusion of curves by drawing in at his waist. The garter belt and silk underpants match it perfectly, all of them in navy blue, and the cream stockings slide up his legs like a dream now that most of his body hair has left him, his legs, arms and torso all left bare.

Pale, smooth, perfect. Silk, just like he’d hoped to be.

Now to put on more proper attire.

White shirt, sleeves rolled up; tight charcoal trousers; black satin vest; black leather shoes. A part of him wishes he could get away with wearing his new stilettos to the club, but that would be too much of a give-away. Better not to let the world know his secret – especially since it feels so much more wonderful, sexy, when only he knows what he’s wearing under his clothes.

Of course, that’s only one of his difficulties, out at the clubs. He takes Blaise and Theo with him, Greg not quite comfortable enough on ‘LGBT night’ to join them. Theo only comes on these nights, Blaise comes every night… both of them are comfortable with who they are. They tend to get pretty hammered too, knowing Draco will keep an eye on them. He doesn’t drink much – the glamour on his left arm tends to fade if he lets himself get too tipsy. It’s bad enough that someone might discover his secret, but it would be far worse if they were to realise who he is, what he did… what his father did.

Sometimes Draco thinks it might have been easier if he too had received house arrest. That way no-one would stare at him, spit at him in the street, call out hateful things he tries not to hear. There wouldn’t be so much pressure to be perfect, a pressure that remains even in Gringotts where the sneers aren’t able to follow so easily.

At least here in this club, Code, the lights are dim and the music loud, and the bartender doesn’t care about anything much as long as he’s paid. And on a night like this, most of the blokes are too busy admiring his arse to care who he is.

As he sips his Talisker, Draco notices the man watching him. Sure, plenty of men check him out, but this is different – penetrative, calculating, lustful. It’s pretty clear what he wants, but then again he knows nothing about Draco really, not anything real. Certainly can’t know about the corset, the stockings… No. It’s tempting to give in, certainly, but although the man is attractive, he’s also ginger, and Pansy has made him promise not to screw any of those since noticing his ‘Weasley thing’. Especially not to screw any of them the way he really wants to.

Draco isn’t a virgin, not really… but topping exclusively (the three times he’s had sex, and one of those was with Pansy in sixth year,) means that there’s something he wants but is afraid to ask for. Surely these days anyone who wants to fuck Draco Malfoy can be presumed to have some sinister motive?

But that man… he doesn’t look as if he does, really. That stare has genuine longing in it, doesn’t it? Sincerity? Maybe he’s had more to drink than he should have, normally would, but he doesn’t really care anymore.

Before he realises what he’s doing, Draco has sat down next to the man, and is even flirting a little. The man flirts back, and thank Circe Blaise and Theo are too drunk to even know Draco’s still here or they’d drag him away, citing ‘Weasley-mania’.

Eventually, somehow, they’re in Draco’s London apartment (close to work and far from Lucius), and the man has him pinned to the wall, snogging the breath out of him. Draco isn’t even sure of his Ginger’s name, thinks it might be something like Marley, something stupid that doesn’t do him justice anyway. He’s far too gorgeous for something so… common sounding. It doesn’t take long before Marley’s got him into the bedroom, spread out on the bed, tugging his shoes off. Draco has a moment to panic, realising that Marley can’t know about the lingerie, before it’s too late and his shirt is gone.

Marley doesn’t seem to care, in fact seems rather pleased by it all. Tells Draco that he’s gorgeous, kissing him everywhere, stripping off his outer clothes. Stepping out of his own clothes, naked, leaving Draco in his silk casing, opening him up and staining the garments with musky sweat.

The sex itself is everything and nothing like Draco imagined. It’s better. So consuming, incredible, draining. They do it once and keep going, kisses and touches drawing a bridge between one time and the next. Draco can hardly move anymore, and is almost grateful when his companion falls asleep. It gives him a chance to take a couple of potions, the one for his figure and another to stave off the chest cold threatening to manifest. He probably shouldn’t have had so much to drink, being on potions, but this night… he can’t regret a moment of what has passed.

-o-

He thoroughly regrets that night. The Healer looks fairly shocked too, and Draco can hardly breathe.

“Pregnant? Seriously? That’s impossible.” She checks his chart again, as if trying to make herself believe this is happening.

“It seems the combination of potions you were on, the alcohol… frankly, Mr Malfoy, that… cosmetic potion, was never intended for use by men. They contain these, certain hormones… there’s this sort of cocoon now, with, well… Unfortunately, since you are a man, your body is attacking the baby. It thinks he’s a parasite. Which explains your illness, your weight loss...” Draco is trying not to cry. He’s always been worried about children, especially since the war with drain on funds and lessened reputation. His family has enough issues making healthy babies as it is – he had a sister who was still-born, heart deformities – and being gay he’d thought he’d never have one. Now, he does, a son. This is so wrong, so impossible, so important.

“Is there some way you can help him?” She looks even more shocked that he wants to keep the baby, but rallies quickly. She probably assumes him to be heartless, a Death Eater bastard who managed to get away without jail-time.

That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The man knew that, Draco thinks, the other father of his tiny embryo, not even big enough to be a foetus yet; knew that Draco is more than what people see, that he can be a good man, if the world would only give him a chance.

-o-

It turns out they can transfer the baby to a cauldron – essentially a variation on the typical ‘cauldron baby’ process. They can monitor him more closely this way, so if anything starts to go wrong, the Healers can help. It will cost him a small fortune, but that doesn’t matter, he knows Laughton will give him another raise soon anyway. His baby is more important than all of it.

His parents are upset, for obvious reasons. They don’t even know if the baby will be a pureblood or not, not knowing the other father’s identity. Draco just hopes the baby doesn’t inherit what’s-his-name’s red hair, or his father might have a heart-attack. His friends think he’s insane, having a child not only before marriage, but before he’s even turned twenty-one. Although there’s a chance the baby might be born just after that birthday – the timing will be close.

The media have jumped on it, of course. They even got a quote from Potter for some reason, who thinks that “Draco Malfoy’s child is his own business, not ours, and I only wish them both the best” which is nice if a bit odd. Maybe they were trying to play the Death Eater angle, but Draco’s made reasonably good friends with enough of his colleagues that it’s likely someone has told them to leave him alone. Everything’s been going so well for him, it almost feels inevitable that there be such drama over his first-born child. Merlin forbid he catch a break.

-o-

It’s on a visit to his unborn son that Draco sees the man again, in the hospital. He’s bleeding profusely, but doesn’t seem to care, waving away a fluttering medi-witch and laughing at her concern. When he sees Draco he smiles, nods in greeting, clearly recognises him, and Draco turns to Pansy and says simply,

“That’s him.”

She looks at him, incredulous, but Draco isn’t looking at her – he’s staring in shock as Bill Weasley steps up behind the man and the resemblance is clear. It’s him, the second one, the mystery bloody Weasley, and Draco wants the floor to swallow him up because how could he not have realised? He’s kept track of them, listened avidly to every rumour. Pansy’s trying to get his attention, but he doesn’t notice her. He feels strange, out of place.

He faints, and it’s ridiculously embarrassing.

When he comes to, Bill is shaking his head as Pansy explains to him what’s going on. She seems to have made herself the intermediary, in charge of sorting everything out. The other one is sitting next to him, looking serious and intensely focussed on Pansy and Bill as a medi-witch fusses over his shredded arm. Bill is the first to realise Draco’s awake, falling silent and turning to his brother.

“Charlie?”

Well, at least now Draco can stop frantically trying to work out a way of explaining that he can’t even remember Charlie’s name. The man in question turns to him, looks hard, and Draco can’t speak. Can’t bring himself to open his mouth, find the words to say “yes, he’s yours, I’m sorry but I won’t give him up”. He hopes it’s plain on his face.

But Charlie surprises him completely.

He smiles, so warm and broad that Draco knows why he let himself fall into bed with this man, why he trusted him. He speaks soft, tender, reassuring Draco that he won’t take the baby away, won’t challenge Draco’s rights, just wants to know his child and to be there for him just in case. Says that even though he’s between jobs right now, he’ll support in any way he can. And Draco surprises even himself when he wraps his arms around Charlie’s shoulders, hugging him tight and hoping no-one notices the silent tears of relief trailing down his cheeks.

-o-

They talk, a lot, making plans together. Lucius takes a lot of talking to before he stops abusing them both over it all, and Narcissa is presumed to be the major force behind the change. The Weasleys are surprisingly difficult too, but Draco learns later that Charlie made a fairly threatening speech at a family dinner, and they too have been rather a lot better since. It helps that Charlie is taking the position of Care Of Magical Creatures teacher and will be handling the first-years’ flying lessons at Theo’s school. Their lives are slowly entwining, and Charlie even invites Draco to family dinners (even though he never says yes, not yet) and they have drinks at least once a week.

It takes weeks before Draco works up the courage to kiss Charlie, sitting by the fire drinking Merlot. Charlie doesn’t even hesitate, kissing back but keeping it all so warm and sweet and Draco can’t help falling just a bit further in love – enough that he starts to notice it himself, and realises Pansy may have been right when she said he writes of his ‘great love’ rather than simply the other parent of his unborn son. They are in love, aren’t they? It will be the three of them, a family.

The war is truly behind him now, his future lies ahead in all its potential, and Draco wouldn’t change a moment of his life for fear that he might not, if he did, come to this moment here; with Charlie, their child on his way, curled on the couch by the fire.


	2. The Original Snippet

Draco eyed himself critically in the mirror. The potions were certainly doing their job, keeping him slender and his hair thick and luxurious. The corset pulled him in just as he’d hoped, giving the illusion of curves by drawing in at his waist. The garter belt and silk underpants matched it perfectly, all of them in navy blue, and the cream stockings slid up his legs like a dream now that he’d gotten rid of most of his body hair.

He was pale, smooth, perfect. Silk, just like he’d hoped.

Now to put on more proper attire.

White shirt, sleeves rolled up; tight charcoal trousers; black satin vest; black leather shoes. A part of him wishes he could get away with wearing his new stilettos to the club, but that would be too much of a give-away. Better not to let the world know his secret – especially since it feels so much more wonderful, sexy, when only he knows what he’s wearing under his clothes.

Of course, that’s only one of his difficulties, out at the clubs. He takes Blaise and Theo with him, Greg not quite comfortable on ‘LGBT night’ to join them. Theo only comes on these nights, Blaise comes every night… both of them are comfortable with who they are. They tend to get pretty hammered too, knowing Draco will keep an eye on them. He doesn’t drink much – the glamour on his left arm tends to fade if he lets himself get too tipsy. Bad enough that someone might discover his secret, far worse if they were to realise who he is, what he did… what his father did.

Sometimes Draco thinks it might be easier if he too had received house arrest. That way no-one would stare at him, spit at him in the street, call out hateful things he tries not to hear.

At least in this club, Code, the lights are dim and the music loud, and the bartender doesn’t care as long as he’s paid. And on a night like this, most of the blokes are too busy admiring him to care who he is.

As he sips his Talisker, Draco notices the man watching him. Sure, plenty of men check him out, but this is different – penetrative, calculating, lustful. It’s pretty clear what he wants, but then again he knows nothing about Draco really. Certainly can’t know about the corset, the stockings… No. It’s tempting to give in, certainly, but although the man is attractive, he’s also ginger, and Pansy has made him promise not to screw any of those. Especially not the way he wants to.

Draco isn’t a virgin, not really… but topping exclusively (the three times he’s had sex, and one of those was with Pansy,) means that there’s something he wants but is afraid to ask for. Surely these days anyone who wants to fuck Draco Malfoy can be presumed to have some sinister motive?

But that man… he doesn’t look as if he does, really. That stare has genuine longing in it, doesn’t it?

Before he realises what he’s doing, Draco has sat down next to the man, and even flirts a little. The man flirts back, and thank Circe Blaise and Theo are too drunk to even know Draco’s still here or they’d drag him away.

Eventually, somehow, they’re in Draco’s apartment, and the man has him pinned to the wall, snogging the breath out of him. Draco isn’t even sure of his name, thinks it might be something like Marly, something stupid that doesn’t do him justice anyway. He’s far too gorgeous for something so… common sounding. It doesn’t take long before Marly’s got him into the bedroom, spread out on the bed, tugging his shoes off. Draco has a moment to panic, realising that Marly can’t know about the lingerie, before it’s too late and his shirt is gone.

Marly doesn’t seem to care, in fact seems rather pleased. Tells Draco that he’s gorgeous, kissing him everywhere, stripping off his outer clothes. Stepping out of his own clothes, naked, leaving Draco in his silk casing.

The sex itself is everything and nothing like Draco imagined. It’s better. So consuming, incredible, draining. They do it once and keep going, kisses and touches drawing a bridge between one time and the next. Draco can hardly move anymore, and is almost grateful when his companion falls asleep. It gives him a chance to take a couple of potions, one for his figure and one to stave off the chest cold threatening to manifest. He probably shouldn’t have had so much to drink, being on potions, but this night… he can’t regret a moment of what has passed.

~o~

He thoroughly regrets that night. The Healer looks fairly shocked too, and Draco can hardly breathe.

“Pregnant? Seriously? That’s impossible.” She checks his chart again, as if trying to make herself believe this is happening.

“It seems the combination of potions you were on, the alcohol… frankly, Mr Malfoy, some of those… cosmetic potions, were never intended for use by men. They contain certain hormones… Unfortunately, since you are a man, your body is attacking the baby. It thinks he’s a parasite. Which explains your illness, your weight loss...” Draco is trying not to cry. He’s always worried about children. His family has enough issues making healthy babies as it is – he had a sister who was still-born, heart deformities – and being gay he’d thought he’d never have one. Now, he does, a son. This is so wrong, so impossible, so important.

“Is there some way you can help him?” She looks even more shocked that he wants to keep the baby, but rallies quickly.

It turns out they can transfer the baby to a cauldron – essentially a variation on the typical ‘cauldron baby’ process. They can monitor him more closely this way, so if anything starts to go wrong, the Healers can help. It will cost him a small fortune, but that doesn’t matter. His baby is more important.

His parents are upset, for obvious reasons. They don’t even know if the baby will be a pureblood or not, not knowing the ‘other’ father’s identity. Draco just hopes the baby doesn’t inherit what’s-his-name’s red hair, or his father might have a heart-attack. His friends think he’s insane, having a child not only before marriage, but before he’s even turned twenty-one. Although there’s a chance the baby might be born just after that birthday – the timing will be close.

It’s on a visit to his unborn son that Draco sees the man again, in the hospital. He’s bleeding profusely, but doesn’t seem to care, waving away a fluttering medi-witch and laughing at her concern. When he sees Draco he smiles, nods in greeting, clearly recognises him; and Draco turns to Pansy and says simply,

“That’s him.”


End file.
